(Just Give Me) One Perfect Moment
by emn1936
Summary: The road to true love is never easy.
1. Chapter 1

(Just Give Me) One Perfect Moment

She felt powerful. Strong and invincible as she rose above him. Need and want coiled through her, desire spiraling tighter and tighter each time his body pierced and filled hers. She leaned down, away from the support of his upraised knees and laved the flat of her tongue over the tendon standing out in stark relief along the side of his neck as he arched against the pillow and bared his throat to her in abject surrender.

Bracing her hands on either side of his head, her curls tumbled forward, cocooning them inside a golden curtain where nothing else existed but them and this moment. Staring into his eyes, she touched her lips to his, her lashes fluttering closed as their mouths moved together in a lazy kiss that belied the increasingly urgent rise and fall of their bodies.

Heart hammering and thighs trembling, pleasure radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes. Rising above him again, her hands bracketed the heaving bellows of his ribcage and she arched her back, riding a tidal flood of bliss, cresting over the top when he swept a careless thumb over her needy center. Calling out his name, she fell forward in a limp heap against his chest, gasping for air and fighting for a return to control.

The sound of his heart hammering beneath her ear roused her and she became aware that he remained hot and hard, still buried deep within her. Pressing her hands against his chest, she levered herself upright and with a soft smile on her lips, slowly rolled her hips over his. Her muscles fluttered around him, pulsing with the aftershocks of her own release and drawing him ever closer to his own. His eyes opened and she was caught by the intensity of his gaze. She felt his hand groping, seeking her own. His fingers threaded with hers, clamping tight and she watched the ocean blue of his eyes darken, saw his gaze go blurry. And as he followed her over the edge, her body tightened around his again, milking every last moment of pleasure from them both until they collapsed in an exhausted tangle of arms and legs.

"Mmmm." Feeling deliciously achy and well-used, Emma raised her arms above her head and stretched her toes toward the foot of the bed in a long, luxurious stretch. Curling up again beside him, she laid her head back down on his chest. "I don't want to go," she moaned softly. She was so comfortable, nestled under the covers with him. She shivered and her back arched like a cat's as Killian smoothed his hand over her tangled mop of hair. His fingers traced a leisurely path over the shallow groove of her spine, finding and dipping into the twin dimples at the small of her back.

"Then stay."

His voice was a deep rumble beneath her ear.

"I wish I could."

"You can," he told her. "It's a relatively simple proposition, Swan. Just don't go."

She closed her hand over the pair of charms glinting against the dark hair of his chest and pressed her lips over his heart in an open-mouthed kiss.

"Can't." Stacking her hands on his chest, she propped her chin on them and met his sleepy-eyed gaze. "Family dinner at the loft. Mary Margaret will kill me if I don't show."

She pushed herself up, crawling over him to sit on the edge of the bunk in his cabin. Stretching her hands over her head again, she let out a long groan then pushed to her feet.

"Brrr!" She danced on the tips of her toes as her feet made contact with the chilled wooden deck.

"It's nice and warm under here, love."

Glancing over her shoulder, she bit her lip to stifle the longing moan vibrating in her throat. Propped on one elbow, he was pure temptation. The covers pooled low on his hip, the white sheet standing in stark contrast to the tanned skin and dark hair stretched over his leanly-muscled torso. His hair stood up in spikes, crazily tousled by her hands. His lips were swollen and red from her kisses and his drowsy-eyed gaze beckoned her to return to his bed. Rings glinted on the long fingers splayed loosely over his belly and he lifted the sheet invitingly, giving her a shadowed peek-a-book glimpse of everything hidden beneath.

She took a half step toward the bed and then stopped.

"But Mary Margaret…" Weakly, she tried to remember her argument in favor of leaving.

"Perhaps it would be alright to be a wee bit late," he suggested enticingly. "Surely your mother can be persuaded to understand…"

"God, no. Then I'd have to explain where I was and what I was doing." She scrubbed her hands over her face and missed the shutters that came down over his expression. When she looked back up, his mask was firmly in place – the familiar smirk curving his lips as he lay back against the pillows.

"Right, Well, lass." He glanced over, shot her a wicked smile. "I know you are quite aware of what it is you're missing."

She laughed and padded across the chamber on bare feet to fill a bowl with water from a waiting pitcher. She splashed water over her face before lathering a thick sponge with a bar of soap. She scrubbed her neck and arms, her breasts and between her legs, washing away his scent and the musk of their mating. It would not do to go to family dinner smelling of sex.

She made quick work of her bath. She loved the _Jolly Roger_. The gentle rocking motion and sound of the water lapping at its hull soothed her, but she did miss the lack of modern world amenities. That thought led to a brief fantasy of introducing Killian to the joys of a hot shower (and hot shower sex) and she paused, her vision going blurry as she imagined rivers of hot water sluicing over his nude form.

"Change your mind, love?"

The hopeful sound of his voice pulled her from the vivid imagery and she shook her head to clear it. She snatched up a nearby length of cloth and dried herself. Grabbing her clothes from where they were piled on the floor, she attempted to shake out the worst of the wrinkles and dressed quickly.

"Can't." Standing in front of a mirror, she tugged her clothing into place and ran her fingers through her snarled hair. Squinting at her image in the old and faded glass, she repaired her makeup, dusting a light coat of powder over her face and swiping raspberry gloss over her lips in hopes of hiding the swollen redness left behind from his kisses.

Striding across the room, she sat on the edge of the bed. Twining the silver chain of his necklace around her index finger, she tugged him toward her, intending to drop a lighthearted goodbye kiss on his lips. But the moment their mouths met, the kiss turned into a messy, wet, greedy tangle of tongues, lips and teeth.

"Oh, God. Stop." Pulling away, she blinked dazedly and pressed one hand over her rapidly beating heart. Glancing down, she noted evidence of his arousal stirring back to life beneath the sheets. Her hand swept below the covers, fingers stroked over the hot, hard length of him.

"Oh, boy," she said regretfully. "I have to go," she apologized. "But I'll be back for _this_ later." Swiping her thumb over the velvety-soft tip, and feeling him jump in her hand, she gave him a saucy smile. Leaning down she pecked her mouth to his.

"Mmmm. Raspberry." She wiped the thumb of free hand over his mouth, removing the traces of gloss left there and then rising quickly, she hurried toward the door, jacket in hand.

"Swan," he groaned. "Don't you dare leave me like –"

"Gotta go. Mary Margaret'll be mad if I'm late again. I'll see you later." Waggling two fingers, she shot him an impish grin before hurrying from the room.

Hauling herself up the hatch, she leaned weakly against the thick wooden post which supported the main mast and brought her breathing under control while silently cursing family obligations. Shrugging into her jacket and taking a quick look around to verify that no one was about to see her, she jogged lightly down the gangplank before hurrying back to town to meet her family.

TBC

A/N: This story is complete but not fully edited. I'm posting the first chapter as I prepare to leave for vacation but am hopeful that I'll find some quiet time while I'm away to edit the remainder and post it this week. If not, I will post it upon my return next weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian flopped back against the pillow and threw his damaged arm over his eyes. He listened to the sound of Emma's boots pounding lightly over the deck and down the gangplank as she disembarked. He shifted restlessly, grimacing as the sheet rasped uncomfortably over his hips. Groaning, he literally took matters into his own hand and brought himself to a quick and ultimately unsatisfying release. Wiping his hand on the sheet, he considered that she had, in all likelihood, ruined him from finding true satisfaction without her. Frowning at the thought, he rose from the bed and stripped away the soiled sheets. Tossing them into a corner, he pulled a set of threadbare spare sheets from a wooden cupboard and stretched them over the feather mattress, tucking the corners under with military precision.

Crossing the small chamber, he washed up and drew on a pair of soft linen sleeping pants and settled into a chair. Drawing the oil lantern closer, he opened a book and tried to read but found himself moodily staring at the door, trying to ignore the sense of abandonment that had come over him when he had felt and heard the shaking reverberations of Emma's feet as she had run down the gangplank. Though he chided himself for being silly, he could not shake the feeling that she could had been in a hurry to get away.

"Of course she was in a hurry, you soddin' fool. She did not want to be late for dinner. She's coming back," he reminded himself with irritation. "And now I'm talking to myself," he muttered, and determinedly forced his attention back to the book on his lap, but his stomach growled loudly in the quiet room. He grimaced at the thought of the hardtack and ale which made up the provisions left in the ship's larder.

The ship was too quiet and he decided that was the cause of his melancholy. He was used to the loud and raucous voices of his crew – the arguments, the jokes, the bawdy songs; used to the sound of the sails snapping in the breeze, the exhilaration of the wind rushing past his ears and propelling the ship to cut through the churning waves. Unable to stand the maudlin loneliness of his thoughts and eager for a decent bite to eat, he dressed in his leather and made his way to town.

The sight of the town lights and signs of life, along with the promise of a good meal, did much to lift Killian's spirts as he neared Granny's. It was warm inside and crowded but he found an empty seat at the counter and settled onto it.

"The stew's good tonight," Ruby called over her shoulder as she automatically pulled a mug of ale and placed it before him.

"Aye," Hook agreed. "Let's have that then." He took a long pull from his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The sound of raucous laughter coming from the back corner of the restaurant drew his attention and he craned his head to get a better look at the merrymakers. He was surprised to see Emma and her family – he thought he had understood their dinner to be taking place at the loft. They seemed to be playing some kind of card game and he watched as she threw back her head and laughed when Henry whispered something in her ear.

"Boom!" he heard her call as she laid a card down in the center of the table. "Take that!" and Killian could not help but smile at her obvious joy. His smile dimmed, however, when he saw her scoot closer to Henry in order to make room for another, and he watched with confusion as Bae – as Neal – settled into the booth beside her.

Killian slid from his seat to get a better look at the group noting that Mary Margaret and Belle were seated on the other side of the table whispering furiously to one another over the cards in their hands. The librarian's presence confused him – Emma had told him that she was leaving to attend a family meal. His gaze roved about, settling with astonishment on the sight of Regina and the Dark One hovering nearby, near-identical looks of smirking bemusement on their faces as they watched the game.

Jealousy's hot and nasty tentacles slithered through Killian, curling insidiously inside and knotting his stomach when Neal slid an arm behind Emma and leaned into her to ruffle Henry's hair, marking the three of them as a unit. He felt rage boil beneath the surface of his skin as he saw her laughingly smack Neal's arm when he tried to steal a sip of her beer and despaired as he took note of Henry's delight in watching the interplay between his parents.

"Hook!" He was so caught up in the scene playing out before him he did not hear David call his name until the other man's hand settled on his shoulder.

"Hey, man. Are you in there?" The prince waved a hand in front of Killian's eyes and the pirate blinked.

"Sorry, mate." He shook his head to clear it. "I was just trying to determine what manner of game your family is engaged in." He forced a note of careless humor into his voice, at the same time wiping his face free of any expression other than idle curiosity.

"Yeah, they're causing quite the commotion back there," the prince agreed. "We were supposed to have dinner at the loft," David explained, "but Mary Margaret was concerned that there wouldn't be enough room for everyone and we decided we should just move here instead."

"Just as well," Killian observed tightly. "It's probably best to keep some members of that group in a public setting; though I imagine that is no guarantee they will be on their best behavior."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." David grimaced. "Who would have thought the day would come when I would consider the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin as part of my family?" He shook his head with a perplexed laugh and took a sip from the beer glass in his hand.

"Who indeed," Killian muttered. Plastering a brilliant smile on his face, he clapped a hand on David's back. "Best to get back to them then, eh?"

"Yeah. Looks like Emma, Neal and Henry are killing my team. I better get back and see if I can help turn the tide. You're welcome to join us." He tipped his head toward the boisterous group.

"Better not," Killian said with a shake of his head. "It's a family dinner. I would not wish to intrude."

"You sure?"

"I am. Thanks for asking, mate."

He remained where he was, staring at Emma as the prince turned to return to his family. She looked up as if feeling his gaze and her eyes widened when they landed on him. He saw the smirk that curled her lips before she ducked her head and broke eye contact with him. He watched as she handed the cards to Henry and gently hip-checked Neal who stood and allowed her to slide out of the booth.

As she began to thread her way through the crowd toward him, Killian whirled on his heel and tossed some bills onto the counter.

"You're leaving?" Ruby asked. "The kitchen's a little backed up, but your food will be out soon."

"That's not… I just remembered something that requires my attention. My apologies." And draining the beer from his mug, he set it down on the counter with a thump and pushed through the door. Hurrying down the front path, he had just cleared the front gate of the property when he heard the tinkling bells over the door as it swung open.

"Hey!" Emma called.

He pretended not to hear and continued walking.

"Killian!" His step faltered and his shoulders sagged. He wished he had never left his ship tonight. He thought maybe he wished that he had never met Emma or her damned family.

She broke into a jog to catch up to him. "Caught ya!" she said with a happy grin. "Couldn't bear to let me out of your sight, huh?" She grabbed him by the lapels and pushed him into a shadowy alcove next to the diner and with a quick and furtive glance around to be sure that no one was nearby to see, she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

Killian's head jerked back. "I was not spying on you, if that is what you are implying." He scrubbed the back of his hand against his mouth.

"I wasn't… I never said…" Baffled by his rejection and the barely restrained violence simmering beneath his rigid exterior, she looked up at him in bewilderment.

Killian sighed – a long exhalation of breath - and his shoulders slumped as the anger drained away leaving only confusion in its wake.

"It was not my intention to intrude on your time with your family," he said slowly. "It was simply too quiet on the _Jolly Roger_. I am still not accustomed to my ship being so silent and still." He turned his head in the direction of the harbor as if he could see the ship's mast from where they stood.

"I thought to come to town for a meal and to hear the sound of voices other than those in my own head. I did not expect to find you and your family there." He shrugged and his lips quirked up in a self-deprecating smile.

"I'm sorry. I only meant to tease you." She took a chance and reached out to rub her hand over his arm. "We were supposed to eat at the loft, but with so many people," she tipped her head toward the diner, "Mary Margaret was afraid we wouldn't all fit comfortably so she decided to move the family dinner to Granny's instead."

He said nothing for a long minute, moodily staring over her shoulder at the side of the building. "So your father mentioned." He raised his arm, using his hook to restlessly chip a spot where the paint was flaking away from the cement wall, the agitated gesture at odds with his normally confident swagger.

Glancing to one side, he saw the lights from the diner spilling across the empty tables scattered over the patio, heard the murmur of voices coming from inside, the occasional bark of laughter. His thoughts turned to Gold and the way he had been accepted within that happy circle inside; remembered the indulgent smirk painted on the sorcerer's face as he watched the game.

And hidden away – secreted into the shadows – Killian's mood grew dark once more. He scraped his hook against the wall again and again, the motion jerky and violent as he continually chipped away at the paint.

"It occurs to me, Swan, that for a lass who only a short while ago believed herself to be an orphan with absolutely no family, you certainly have amassed quite a large and unusual clan about you."

Emma reared back, surprised by the nasty edge of his tone.

"Hey," she protested. "I don't know what's bothering you, but that was uncalled for."

"My apologies, princess." He clicked his heels together and dipped at the waist in a formal little bow. "But you must admit it is a curious sight to see you sharing the family table with the Evil Queen."

"She's… she's Henry's other mother." Her confusion over his growing agitation was painted across her features. "Killian. What's this all about? Why do you care who I have dinner with?"

"Do you realize this is the closest you've ever stood near me on a public street?"

"I…what?" She blinked, unable to keep up with the mental whiplash of his comments as he bounced from one topic to another.

"The librarian playing cards with your mother was also a surprise."

Trying to keep up with his rapid fire switch back to her choice of dinner companions, Emma shook her head as if to clear it.

"Belle was there with Gold."

"Ah… yes," he murmured, a sinister edge creeping into his voice. "How could I forget? Your definition of family has apparently expanded to include a crocodile."

"He's Henry's family. He's his _grandfather_," she gritted as her temper began to rise to match Killian's.

"True." He ran his fingers over the curve of his hook, idly testing the point with the pad of his thumb. "Of course, he murdered Henry's grandmother. Tore her heart out of her chest and crushed it into dust but then, I imagine that is not a topic fit for discussion at the family table."

Emma sighed, her temper dissolving at the reminder of Killian's loss. She took a step closer, resting her hand on his arm.

"Careful, milady." He made an elaborate show of craning his head from side-to-side, as though looking around for possible prying eyes. "You wouldn't want to risk anyone seeing you cavorting out here with me."

"Killian, please. I don't know what brought this on but –"

"Come now, Swan. Surely you aren't that daft. Do you not see how I might find insult in the fact that I am out here hiding in an alley because you prefer that no one be made aware of our relationship, but you do not shy away from sharing a table with the Dark One and his coward of a son who abandoned you to take the blame and punishment for his crime?"

"You're jealous," she breathed in sudden understanding.

Killian's spine straightened with a jerk. "Do not trivialize this," he snapped, insult plainly written across his features.

"I'm not." She closed the distance between them. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of any of this. I didn't think… I didn't realize." Rising on her toes, she cupped his face between her palms and brushed her mouth against his.

"Emma," he whispered. His need for her warred with the hurt he was feeling. He closed his eyes, swaying toward her as if she had woven a spell around him.

"Mom?"

At the sound of Henry's voice calling her name she jumped back as if scalded and the moment was shattered. She stepped out from behind the wall.

"Hey, kid. What is it?"

"Dad said to hurry back. We're starting to lose and we need you."

"Okay. You go on back inside and I'll be there in a minute."

She swung her gaze back to the man standing behind her and took a step toward him.

"Killian. I… Henry –"

He raised his hand and hook in surrender and took two steps back. "You better go, Swan. Your family is waiting for you." Turning, he strode away and this time, it was he who put distance between them.

Emma returned to her family, sliding into the booth next to Neal and though she played the game and helped to lead her team back into the winning column, her mind was elsewhere. She saw Henry crow with victory and slap a card down onto the table and she returned his fist bump on autopilot.

"I'm going to get a refill." She grabbed her glass and rose abruptly. The others were too caught up in the game to realize that her glass was still half full. Everyone, that was, except for her mother who slid out of the booth a step behind Emma.

"Did you argue?" Mary Margaret leaned against the counter where Emma stood awaiting a fresh drink.

"Did I argue with who?"

"Emma." Her mother shot her a pointed look. "Fine," she said with a sigh. "Did you and Hook argue?"

Emma stared at her friend… at her mother, and realized that very little ever got past this woman. Her gamine cut and diminutive frame gave her the look of a tiny fairy, but as Emma had come to learn, there was a lot more to fairies than Hollywood would have you believe.

"I see the way you look at him," Mary Margaret said. "Or rather, I see the way you try _not_ to look at him."

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head. So much for her acting skills, she thought with disgust.

"And more to the point, I see the way he looks at you." Her mother's dark brows rose meaningfully.

"Oh, yeah?" Striving to look coolly confident, Emma took a sip from her glass. "Exactly how does he look at me?"

Mary Margaret laid her palm over her chest, patting it twice to mimic a heartbeat. "Like he wants to eat you up."

Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, choking and coughing as beer burned a path into her nasal passages. "Oh my God," she wheezed as Mary Margaret helpfully patted and rubbed her back. "You did _not_ just say that!"

Her mother smiled smugly and laughed.

"Go." She took the glass from Emma's hand and set it on the counter. "I'll make your excuses."

"Will you take Henry back to the loft for me?"

"Of course." Mary Margaret gave her daughter a gentle shove to get her moving. "Now go."

Emma took a step toward the door then spun back and impulsively threw her arms around her mother's shoulders. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered before hurrying off.

She drove to the docks and raced up the gangplank but quickly realized that Killian was not aboard the _Jolly Roger_. Aiming the little yellow bug back toward town, she slowly drove through the streets, hoping to find him wandering about. Pulling over, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel and realized there was one place she had not yet thought to look.

Entering the Rabbit Hole, she let her gaze wander over the crowd. She found him sitting alone at a table in one corner of the room. Approaching the table, she watched him take a sip from the glass in his hand.

"Can we talk?"

Killian waved his hook in an elegantly careless gesture toward the empty chair on the other side of the table.

"Certainly." His lips curved up into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked as she cautiously slid into the chair.

"Not enough, Swan. Not nearly enough."

When she said nothing, he sighed and met her gaze with his own.

"This is still my first," he assured her.

"Killian, I –"

"I apologize," he interrupted. "I behaved badly."

"Don't apologize."

The waitress chose that moment to come over and take Emma's drink order and they waited until she left before resuming their conversation.

"I'd like to talk about what happened tonight and why."

He twisted his glass around and around on the scarred table top and shrugged.

"Just talk to me," she urged. "Even if it's only to yell or fight. When I left you earlier, I thought everything was fine and then suddenly you were at the diner and it was obvious that everything was far from fine. What happened to change things?"

He waited while the waitress dropped off Emma's drink. Taking a bracing sip from his own, he stared moodily at her over the top of his glass. "What happened was I watched you climb out of my bed and scrub away every trace of me… every trace of _us_… And it has lately occurred to me that perhaps this secrecy you insist we keep is more than just wanting your privacy. That perhaps you are ashamed for anyone to find out about us.

Agitated, he rubbed his palm over his jaw. "Then I walked into the diner and saw all of you – saw Gold accepted into the circle of your family – this man whom I have hated for centuries." He shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink, signaling the waitress for another. "You'll forgive me but I find it hard to stomach your open acceptance of him while you have as little to do with me as possible unless we are in bed."

He accepted a fresh glass from the waitress with a nod of thanks then shifted his attention back to the woman seated across from him. "But I realize I have no claim on you. No right to dictate who can or cannot be part of your life and no right to be angry and for that, I apologize."

His speech took on the funny, formal cadence she had come to recognize from times when she knew he felt off kilter or out of place in a situation. Taking a chance, she laid her hand on the leather brace covering the damaged flesh beneath.

"He's Henry's grandfather and will be part of his life as long as Henry wishes it. But don't think that means that he's accepted into the family. He's tolerated at best. For Neal's sake. For Henry's sake. But please don't think that means I've forgotten what he's done – of who he has taken from you – of the cruelties he has inflicted on you." She traced a finger over the hook which glimmered dully under the dim lights of the bar.

"And I am _not_ ashamed of us."

He laughed – a bitter bark of sound. "Yes. That is why you cringed at the idea of having to explain to your mother where you had been before dinner."

She dipped her head, acknowledging his point. "I can see now that it appeared that way to you. But I would like to explain – if you'll let me."

Killian settled back in his chair, his posture deliberately indolent and lazily gestured for her to continue.

"From the moment Henry brought me to town, I've been the subject of gossip and speculation, especially after I broke the curse and everyone found out who my parents are. Who I am."

"The Savior," he murmured.

"Yes. And it seemed as if in that moment I became public property."

He understood that for a person who had spent so much of her life alone, the sudden thrust into the spotlight would be uncomfortable.

"You are their lost princess."

"Yeah." Her shoulders sagged as if crushed beneath the weight of the title. Propping her forehead on one hand, she used the fingers of the other to trace idle paths through the droplets of condensation ringing the table around her glass.

"And then you came along." She looked up and her lips twitched into a smile. "You annoyed the hell out of me at first, but you were pretty unimpressed with all of that. You treat me like a woman – not like the Savior. You flirt outrageously. You sass me and challenge me and I like that. You let me be just Emma and I _love_ that."

She took a sip of her drink.

"I've been selfish," she told him. "I know that as soon as people learn about us, all I will hear are whispers about the princess and the pirate." She grimaced, thinking it sounded like the title of a bad romance novel.

"And the whispers that follow will be that you've chosen beneath you."

"Yes." She gave him a level look. "People will want me to explain and justify. But please hear me when I say I know those whispers are lies."

His anger melted away beneath the sincerity of her gaze. "But they're not. Emma, in my life I have done –"

"I don't care." She cut him off with a fierce look. "You came back and helped me get to Henry. You _keep_ coming back and no one else – no one _ever_ – has done that for me, Killian. You have to understand what that means to me."

She reached out, squeezed his hand and he twisted his wrist until their palms met and fingers tangled.

"I admit it." She began to speak again. "I've kind of enjoyed the sneaking around." She stroked her thumb over the weathered skin of his knuckles. "All the furtive glances, the secret smiles and clandestine meetings – it's a turn on. I have loved having this one, special thing that's all mine."

"Ours," he corrected.

"Yes." She graced him with one of those secret smiles. "Ours. But I've been hiding you – I've been hiding us because I've been selfish. I just wanted to keep something private and special. I'm sorry though. Because I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, love… when you phrase it like that, it's difficult to take insult." They shared a soft smile when his fingers tightened around hers and a few minutes passed in contented silence.

"It's my night with Henry," she said at last. "My parents took him home but I need to get back. I just didn't want to let things stand the way we had left them." She scraped back her chair and stood. "Maybe we can talk again tomorrow?"

His lips tipped up in a half smile.

"I'll be around."

"Good." She leaned down and brushed her lips over his cheek. "Then I'll find you."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

He was sitting in a booth at the diner the next morning, staring out the window when he saw her. A light breeze lifted her hair from her face and she walked with the decisive stride he had come to know so well. His Swan moved with a purpose and he wondered if he was on the morning's agenda. The bells above the door jangled merrily when it swung open. Sunlight framed her as she paused in the doorway, eyes moving over the morning crowd. She gave him a secret smile and his mouth quirked up in response.

His gaze quickly fell to the mug of coffee on the table as her parents crowded into the restaurant behind her and he tried to stifle a rising sense of disappointment when the trio wove their way through the breakfast crowd in search of a table. He was aware of Emma making her rounds, greeting friends, listening to the occasional citizen complaint and so, was startled when she suddenly dropped onto the vinyl seat across from him. She met his surprised look with a calm gaze before glancing up to greet Ruby who stopped by with Killian's breakfast and an empty mug.

"I don't even need to ask," the waitress said, pouring coffee into Emma's mug. She laughed when the blonde leaned over the fragrant brew as if she could simply inhale the caffeine into her system.

"Can I warm that up for you, Captain?" Ruby hefted the coffee pot in her hand.

"Please." He held his mug out for her to top it off.

"How about you, Sheriff? You ready to order?"

Emma sat up and pushed her hair from her face. "No thanks. I ate at home with Henry before he left for school."

"Okay. Holler if you need anything," Ruby called and moved on to another customer.

"So." Emma slouched comfortably and swung her feet up onto the bench seat beside Killian.

"So." His hand automatically fell onto her leg, fingers skimming beneath the hem of her jeans to stroke the soft skin of her ankle.

"Go ahead and eat." She gestured toward his plate. "Before your food gets cold."

"It seems ungallant to eat when you are not."

She shrugged, reached out and stole the largest strip of bacon from his plate.

"Oi!" he exclaimed as she crunched into the flavorful meat. "I thought you said you had already broken your fast."

She grinned and licked a bit of grease from her thumb. "There's always room for bacon," she told him with a smug smile.

He grinned and sprinkled pepper over his eggs.

"My neck is burning," he claimed, carefully rubbing his hook over his nape. "Is your mother shooting fiery death glances toward me?"

Emma leaned to one side and peered over his shoulder. "Nope. That would be my father."

Killian wiped a hand over his brow in imaginary relief. "As you can imagine, I've had some experience with angry fathers," he quipped, "but I am not ashamed to admit that your mother frightens me. She's a formidable woman."

"Like mother like daughter, right?" she prompted.

"Indeed, milady."

"Well, you'll be glad to know you don't need to worry about Mary Margaret. It was her idea for me to come after you last night."

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "Truly?" he asked.

"Truly."

"I don't understand. Why would she even think to send you after me?"

"It turns out she's been on to us for a little while now."

He blinked, surprised by her revelation. "And she counseled you to follow me? Not to run in the other direction?"

Emma laughed and because he was so distracted by their conversation, she swiped another piece of bacon from his plate. She shook her head and took another bite. "She definitely told me to go after you."

Killian sat back, his expression one of pure disbelief.

"And she claimed to have known about us for a while? H-how?" He had been so sure they had been discreet.

"She said she suspected it by the way I carefully avoided looking directly at you – but that she knew for sure when she saw the way _you_ look at _me_.

"Oh? And how do I look at you?"

Emma braced her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. Staring directly into his eyes, her voice dropped to a husky murmur.

"She said you look at me like you want to eat me up."

Her gaze held his for a long moment before falling to his mouth and Killian felt heat flush through his body. His vision glazed over as he watched her tongue sweep out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

"Swan," he groaned.

"Whew!" She leaned back in her seat and fanned herself, taking a sip of rapidly cooling coffee to wet her throat. "This may be a little too public a place for this conversation," she said with a wry grin.

"Aye." He cleared his throat and blew out a long breath. "Aye, love. You may be right." He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position in pants that suddenly felt two sizes too small.

"Yeah." She lowered her feet to the floor and slid to the end of her seat. "Duty calls," she said as she rose to her feet. "I gotta go. What's on your schedule for the day?"

He toyed with the handle of his coffee mug, keeping busy the fingers that itched to yank her down onto his lap. "Repairs to the _Jolly Roger_. Sails need mending."

"Okay. I'll see you later then?" She started to turn away and then pivoted back. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. He sucked in a breath before returning the slight, sweet pressure, aware without looking that they were drawing the attention of others. They parted and he looked up, meeting her grin with his own as she rose to her full height.

"That ought to do it," she mused, glancing around at their gaping audience. "Won't be long before the whole town knows about us."

"And that is acceptable to you?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Yeah." She reached out to toy with the earring dangling from his lobe. "I'm actually great with that."

His gaze roved over her face for a long moment and then, seemingly satisfied that she was telling the truth, he reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills onto the table before rising.

"Come then." He held out his hand for hers. "I'll walk you to your office."

xx

At the end of a long shift Emma had the fleeting thought that she would far prefer squaring off against some random monster-of-the-week than endure another day of the town's speculative looks. Reactions varied – from David's quiet "he better treat you right" to Ruby's salacious winking smile; from Neal's defeated and resigned nod to Leroy's sniffing disapproval.

Henry's initial disappointment that his parents' happily-ever-after would not be found with each other gave way to rapid acceptance – for more than anything else, he wanted Emma to be happy (and she imagined the idea that he might have ready access to a real pirate ship helped smooth the way.)

Locking up the station house behind her, she made her way toward the docks. The late afternoon sun had begun its final descent and was swimming in the sky in a blinding ball of red. Shielding her eyes with her hand she squinted upwards to find Killian three-quarters of the way up the foresail, clinging to the rigging by his hook.

"Are you almost finished?" she shouted, stepping onto the deck.

"Ahoy, Mistress Swan," he called. "By what right do you board a ship without first obtaining her captain's permission?"

She defiantly planted her fists on her hips and craned her head back in an attempt to see what he was working on. "The long arm of the law has an endless reach, buddy."

He grinned in response and she saw the white flash of his teeth against his dark beard.

"Are you coming down or are you gonna make me come up there after you, Hook?" She rubbed her eyes, blinking against the sunspots marring her vision.

"Aye," he called back. "I need but another moment or two."

Unable to stand watching him swing about without a safety harness, she contented herself with poking around the main deck, lifting covers from various barrels to peer inside and studying an intricate series of knots tied onto a length of rope coiled and hanging from a hook on one of the mast posts. At last she heard movement from above and looked up to see Killian tuck his tools into a leather pouch slung across his chest before he nimbly scrambled down the rigging.

He landed on the deck, his boots thudding lightly on the wooden planks and she realized that the sun's glare had prevented her from noticing that he was bare-chested. In apparent deference to the unusual warmth of the early fall sun, he had stripped off and tucked the black linen shirt into the back waistband of his pants and his face and torso glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

Tugging the leather pouch over his head, he deftly unfastened a water skin which had been lashed to its strap with a narrow length of rope. Tipping his head back, he took a long drink of water and Emma found herself hypnotically watching the strong workings of his throat as he drank deeply. He tugged his shirt free and swiped it over his damp chest and arms and she bit her lip to stifle a groan. She swore she felt her womb leap to life and begin gleefully dancing about, begging for his prompt attention.

"Ahhh… Swan? Swan?"

The insistent sound of his voice calling her name finally penetrated the fog of lust and she dragged her unfocused gaze from his bare abdomen to his face to find him peering at her over the top of the balled-up shirt in his hand.

"Is it possible," he asked as he carelessly swiped the dark material under his arms (and damn, she thought, how could _that_ possibly be sexy?) "that the expression on your face at this moment is reflective of the one your mother claims to have previously seen on mine?" He absently tugged the shirt on, leaving it unfastened and somehow the sight of that rumpled shirt hanging loosely on him was even more mouth-watering than when he was uncovered.

She cocked her head to one side, considering. "I think… maybe…"

Who was she kidding? She absolutely wanted to gobble him up. Right. Now.

"Yeah," she told him, her head bobbing up and down emphatically. "Definitely."

Stepping up to him, she curled her fingertips into the damp hair on his chest. "Let's go below deck." She caught his lower lip between her teeth, gave it a gentle nip and felt her pulse leap when he hastened to follow her.

The door to his cabin crashed into the wall behind it; their combined weight propelling it open. For a man with an obvious impairment, he seemed to have half a dozen limbs, she thought hazily, as his fingers tunneled under her hair, skimmed over her throat, cupped her breast.

Clamping her hands over his ears, she tugged her mouth free from his. "Clothes. Off. Now." The words stuttered from between her lips when his mouth found the hammering pulse in her throat. Planting her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him away and toed off her shoes. Tugging her t-shirt over her head, she tossed it to the floor and unfastened her jeans, shoving the heavy denim and the fragile lace of her panties down her legs in one motion. Kicking free of her clothes, she shoved one hand through her hair and pushing the tumbled curls off her face, she looked up to find him still mostly clothed.

Transfixed by her hurried but delightful striptease, Killian had slipped out of his shirt but little more.

"Why are you still wearing so many clothes?" she complained. Propping her fists on her hips, she stomped one foot on the floor and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen dramatically and lock onto the sight of her breasts swaying gently within the confines of the lace bra which was the only article of her clothing remaining.

"Earth to Killian." She waved a hand in front of his face and he blinked, bringing her back into focus.

"I… uh… huh?"

She laughed at his inarticulate response.

"I said you're still dressed and I can't help but wonder why that is."

"And I cannot help but wonder why the haste," he replied, quickly recovering his wits.

She stared at him – the tousled hair; the leather straps crisscrossing his muscled forearm, securing brace and hook in place; the silver chain glimmering against his chest; the leather molding his hips and legs. He looked as though he had stepped off the cover of a romance novel she and another girl in the group home had read by flashlight one evening, giggling and gasping over the racy scenes.

She smiled. "I don't know. Maybe you just look extra pirate-y today."

"_Pirate-y_," he repeated with an answering grin.

"It's a word," she defended. "Now are you going to lose the clothes or do I have to do everything for you?"

He held his arms out to either side in submission and she curled her fingers into the waist of his pants, yanking him toward her. He unfastened his hook and set it aside, leaving the brace in place and his fingers ghosted over the curve of her breasts where they rose above the lacy cups of her bra before skimming down her back and over the twin curves of her ass. Her fingers fumbled with the leather laces of his pants, her concentration broken when he trailed one finger over the crease where her thigh met her hip and it seemed that rather than loosening the laces in her hands, she was knotting them even further.

She cursed under her breath – a muttered and creative litany of swear words.

"Darling," he breathed unsteadily against her temple. "I have been to sea with hardened sailors and even I am impressed by your inspired use of the language."

She ignored him and continued to work at the stubborn laces which were keeping her from her prize. His growing ardor beneath her fumbling hands seemed only to make it that much more difficult to accomplish her task.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," he offered smugly.

Blowing an errant curl off her face, her eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Give me your knife."

He clamped a defensive hand over the small dagger which rode in its sheath on his hip. "Why do you need a blade, love?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm just gonna use it to zip right through these damned laces." She made an enthusiastic slashing motion in front of his groin and he winced, taking a hurried step back.

"Hmm… ahh…" He took another step back. "Perhaps you should allow me to…" He kept a cautious eye on her as he went to work on the now hopelessly knotted laces.

"We are getting nowhere fast," Emma complained in exasperation and thrust out a demanding hand. "Just give me the knife."

"Yes, well…" He fought the urge to cup his hand protectively over his groin. "You see, love, I am… ahh… concerned that in your enthusiasm you might…" He waved a hand about in a wild gesture and she snorted out a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to chop off anything important." She watched the color drain from his face and muffled a giggle. "Especially not before I'm done with it. Now stop fooling around and give me the knife," she commanded.

"You know, lass, I cannot say that your assurances bring me much comfort." With great reluctance he handed the small dagger to her, cringing at the wide smile on her face as she grabbed the laces with one hand and the knife with the other.

"Carefully, love," he cautioned.

"Puh-leeze." She twirled the knife in a deliberately careless gesturing, grinning when he twitched. "I bet I could do it with my eyes closed," she bragged and another giggle escaped her at the choking sound he made. "But I won't." And carefully, as instructed, she sawed through the stubborn laces.

"There!" She triumphantly held the ruined strips of leather aloft. "Finally! Now get to it." She flicked a hand toward his remaining clothing, every inch of her the demanding princess.

He bent forward to push his pants down his legs and she stretched her arms behind her back, popping open the clasp of her bra and skimming the straps over and off her arms. Tossing it aside, she wrapped her arms around his waist and flopped backwards onto the bed.

"Swan! I am not yet – Oomph!" His legs tangled in his pants, he lost his balance and toppled onto her, pushing the breath from her lungs in a startled whoosh of air.

"I had not yet removed my boots," he informed her as he strained for some semblance of dignity, and she craned her head, peering along their bodies to where his leather pants were bunched above his knees.

"Good enough for me!" she announced with a grin and wrapped her legs around his hips. Using her toes to push the constricting material below his knees, she wriggled a hand between them and guided him to her aching center. He rose above her on his elbows and stroked the damp hair away from her brow. It was a little bit awkward. A little bit ridiculous with his pants and boots hampering his movements, and a whole lot of fun. She laughed and the sound of it was so joyous, so infectious, he could not help but join her.

And they were still grinning at one another as he drove into her. Her hips arched beneath him, her body opening to accept the invasion of his, closing around him to hold him prisoner. The mood had changed from the need to sate a desperate hunger to one of quiet joy. Their bodies rocked together in a lazy bid for release and when it washed over them, their fingers were entwined and their lips met in a smiling kiss.

xx

She floated along on the slow ebb and flow that came with the aftermath of pure satisfaction, relishing his heavy weight pressing her into the rumpled bedclothes as he dozed contentedly in her embrace. Her fingers sifted through his hair and he murmured her name against her breast.

She didn't know what lay ahead for them. She was not naïve enough to believe that it would be smooth sailing – they were both too stubborn, too damaged for that. And God alone knew what crazy dangers were waiting for them around the corner but they would face whatever was to come together.

But she didn't want to think about that now. Not at this moment. No, she decided. She had earned the right – _they_ had earned the right to be greedy and to hold this moment, this one perfect moment for themselves.

End


End file.
